


A Night Off

by wordswehavesaid



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, No Spoilers past 1x08 and 3x08, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 06:26:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3346922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordswehavesaid/pseuds/wordswehavesaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry and Oliver go out, though it all ends up being a little more domestic than the latter was hoping. Oliver finds, though, that he doesn't mind that at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night Off

He shuts the engine off but doesn’t move to immediately get out of the car and Barry, who’s already set one foot onto the pavement, ducks his head back inside. “It’s ok if you want to wait out here, you know. You didn’t have to come.” It would be touchingly concerned if it weren’t for the silly little grin that’s pulling at the corner of the younger man’s mouth.

“I am not sitting in the parking lot like a five year-old, Barry,” he bites out automatically. “I was just—scoping out the area.”

“Right,” the other says agreeably enough, still half-bent over himself to keep talking to him. “Familiarizing yourself with your surroundings.” His eyes dart from side to side in demonstration, and he manages to lean in even more, a hand gripping the top of the doorframe the only thing keeping him from sprawling into Oliver’s lap. “Want me to do a run-around to check for potential threats?”

“Oh, for the love of—” He doesn’t bother to finish, simply flings open his door and shuts it once he’s out with a slam. He’s torn between amusement and irritation that his fellow vigilante recalls his advice simply to mock him with it. The amusement will likely win out in the end, though, as he finds it always does with Barry.

“Let’s just get this over with.” It’s a mutter, but he knows Barry’ll hear it anyway; his Central City host is already at his side, relatively unconcerned with attracting attention from the various occupants of the parking lot. Oliver simply nods forward and lets Barry take the lead. After all, for him this is familiar territory.

“So this is kind of a momentous occasion,” Barry states as they pass through the first of two sets of automatic doors.

“It’s just a grocery store, Barry.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never been,” he accurately guesses, and Oliver concedes with a single nod, eyes still fixed ahead. Barry bumps at his shoulder with one of his own. “Just trying to get you to ease up a bit. You look like I’m leading you to the gallows.”

It’s probably the word ‘gallows’ that has him turning to give the other man an incredulous look. “What exactly am I supposed to be feeling then? Excitement and wonder at the joys of grocery shopping?”

Considering this is his first visit to Central—and Barry—of a purely social nature, this isn’t exactly his ideal venue. But Barry was late to meet Oliver at his apartment and once there claimed there wasn’t enough in his cupboards or fridge to last them through the weekend. Familiar as he was becoming with the dietary needs required to sustain the Flash, Oliver agreed and even offered to accompany him to the store.

He’s seriously regretting it now as Barry simply rolls his eyes and looks only mildly hurt by his sarcasm. Oliver wonders just when it had lost its edge. “Maybe? Just hang out here for a second, I’ve got to go get the cart.” And with a brief, reassuring squeeze to his shoulder, Barry’s gone and left him alone right in the front entrance of a grocery store.

There’s people looking at him oddly; not out of some recognition, but more likely because he’s blocking the flow of traffic, so Oliver does his best to move to the side while dodging an older man, a family of five, and a wet floor sign. He ends up by the side wall a few feet away from a table where an employee is stationed with free samples. It looks like some brand of biscuits or crackers masquerading as a substitute for cookies.

Apparently, he’s close enough to warrant her attention. A smile that’s easy but worn stretches across the worker’s lips. “Hi, would you like to try a sample?

“No thank you.” There’s a pause and with her still looking at him periodically he feels compelled to explain, “I’m just waiting here for someone.” It’s the only way he can think of to refer to Barry, friend not quite the whole truth but boyfriend being on that list of Things Oliver Queen Would Rather Die Than Say Aloud. At least, that’s what the list is titled in a Word document on one of Felicity’s computers in the foundry. It still ranks below Arrow Cave.

But that ‘someone’ chooses to return in that moment, rolling to a stop before Oliver with both feet propped on a bar of the cart until he has to take one down to use as the brake. When he raises a single eyebrow, Barry merely points out, “Could have done a wheelie.”

“Not if you want me to keep believing you’re an adult,” he retorts.

“Ok, if you’re still having doubts about that, that makes things between us a little awkward,” Barry is grinning at him, almost roguish, until Oliver looks pointedly to the woman at her table rather near. Then his cheeks are stained with pink and he’s giving a startled cough of a laugh. “Uhh, are those free samples? I would love to try one.” Barry takes a step towards her before skittering back under her rapidly widening smile. “Actually I think I’ll just get some for home—some boxes I mean, not the samples. You’re, um, you’re very convincing. These ones right?” And Barry throws about four of them into their cart before hurriedly pushing it away, not even checking to make sure Oliver’s following.

He does so regardless, finding the younger man hiding in the frozen food section, leaned against one of the freezer doors. The flush has yet to fade from his face, and Oliver shakes his head.

“Do you even know what you just agreed to buy?”

“No,” Barry mutters to his shoes. Oliver laughs, and though he’s not quite recovered from his mortification, Barry rallies enough to shrug his shoulders and say, “Whatever, they’re buy one get one free. Maybe Cisco’ll take them.” He bends over to look at the items.

“Maybe we should actually get started on our own shopping?” Oliver suggests. Amusing as that last episode was to him, he’s not inclined to spend the whole evening here.

“Ok, sure,” Barry agrees, rummaging in his pockets before taking out a folded up piece of paper and consulting what appears to be an honest-to-God shopping list. “Shouldn’t take too long.”

Oliver suppresses a sigh and resigns himself to a night at the grocery store.

It’s when they’re about halfway down the next aisle that Oliver decides Barry cannot be trusted and takes possession of the cart. The man has a tendency to keep walking as he’s consulting his list, causing several near collisions with other shoppers and displays if it weren’t for him managing to steer them out of the way at the last minute with steady hands on Barry’s shoulders or the small of his back. Now Oliver simply pushes the cart along slow and steady, prepared to stop at a moment’s notice as Barry also seems to have the habit of doubling back without warning.

The first time it happened he almost fell headlong into the cart and laughed it off saying, “They keep moving things around in here, it gets me all mixed up.”

The fruits and vegetables he inspects with prodigious care as if for a case, but looking for bruises or nicks instead of evidence. When he spends several minutes turning different apples over and over in his hands, Oliver huffs and says, “Barry, I’m pretty sure you’ve memorized the exact contours of that one by now. Can you just pick?”

“Ok, ok. Just—would you eat it?” He has to lean back as Barry suddenly thrusts the fruit towards him. “I mean, I don’t want to give you something all bruised and gross and I don’t know.” He’s rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand, and this time Oliver doesn’t try to disguise his sigh.

“It’s perfect.”

“Really?” The way the younger man’s eyes flick up to meet his hopefully while his head is still ducked is almost painful to watch. It amazes him every time how much Barry respects his opinion, how much he wants to make Oliver proud and happy.

“Sure, I’ll eat it right now if you want.” He used to think he lost this flippant edge to his personality on the island, but Barry seems to never fail in dragging it out of him. Right now, however, the man’s drawing his own arm back and practically cradling the apple to his chest.

“What? No, why would you do that?” It’s something between a yelp and a giggle before Barry pulls a face. “It’s probably all covered in dirt and chemicals and we still have to pay for it and- and I’m just being ridiculous, aren’t I?”

Oliver feels no guilt in nodding and stating, “Yes.” But unable to help softening it just a little, he adds, “I came here to see you. Do you really think an _apple_ matters to me?”

A smile tugs lopsidedly at the other’s mouth before he gets to work bagging a few of the nicer-looking apples anyway. “No, not really. But, you know, we don’t just have to stick to the list. It’s for you, too, so pick out anything you want.”

It occurs to him then that Barry might just have waited to make this food run for such a thought.

So he drops a few items in as they make their way through the produce section, bickers with Barry over whether to get the bargain brand or spring for something better if pricier, absolutely insists on making them double back to the freezers to grab more ice cream—which admittedly takes little convincing—and searches all over the store with him when they realize they forgot the cart somewhere.

Barry finally puts them in line for self-checkout which he happily informs him is because, “It’s judgment-free and lets you not have to deal with people.” Which makes Oliver feel all sorts of strange, warm things that Barry knows him so well.

Of course it’s as they’re scanning things through that Barry’s eyes go comically wide and he slaps a hand to his forehead. “I promised Joe I’d pick up some milk for him. Just, uh, give me a second.”

“Alright,” he agrees readily, and continues scanning and bagging their purchases as Barry ducks around the person waiting in line after them and heads back out into the store.

The person in question, an older woman, watches him go as well, and then looks back to Oliver with a chuckle. After a moment, she decides to speak up. “You’re very sweet, you and your partner. I couldn’t help noticing the two of you all over the store.”

He’s not really sure what to say to that, so he gives one of his tight-lipped smiles and continues on. It strikes him, though, the word partner; good and assured and strong like a handshake shared between the two of them one sunny morning at Jitters. He likes it.

Barry’s suddenly back with the milk for Joe, so he takes it from him and scans it, then steps aside while the other man pays. Which he insists on doing whenever they go out, as he maintains that he actually has a job with a salary.

So Oliver takes that opportunity to grab up the bags, and Barry barely bats an eye at that, only to huff and mutter, “Show off.”

“That would imply that I was actually trying.”

They get a few steps away before the older woman now at the checkout counter calls after them, “You two have a good night,” with a warm smile and laughing eyes.

“Um, thanks, you too!” Barry replies, a little bewildered but recovering by the end. He shakes his head as they exit the store. “Well that just proves your point that I live on Sesame Street, I guess.”

“I never said that,” Oliver counters while Barry opens the trunk of the car. He loads the bags in and shuts the lid. “But I wouldn’t mind it.”

Barry seems pleasantly surprised by that, hopping back into the passenger seat while he climbs behind the driver’s wheel again. “Really? That’s new. Seriously, I’m amazed you’re not sick of it all after what I just put you through.” He laughs, though it’s a little forced, and he sees it for what it is.

So it’s remarkably easy to set aside any sort of embarrassment to reply, “It wasn’t so bad, with you.” And it gets even better when Barry smiles, grateful and happy and warm and _loving_ , and leans across to kiss him.

He stays close after, his hands rising to cup Oliver’s face and speaks, every so often punctuating his words with another short kiss. “When we get home, I am going to put everything away and make something for dinner. Something really nice. I’ll look up directions.”

“Yeah?” Oliver asks, laughing softly as he accepts each kiss, one hand still curled around the key in the ignition, ready to turn the car on. They haven’t even left the store parking lot.

“Mm-hm. You don’t have to do anything. Just, I don’t know, lounge on my couch and be gorgeous. I’ll swipe a beer from Joe’s fridge when I go drop off his milk.”

“Or, nice as that sounds,” he finally interrupts, reaching with his free hand to grip Barry’s chin, halting him for a moment. “You can put everything away and lounge _with_ me on your couch and be gorgeous.” Oliver traces the younger man’s lower lip with his thumb before releasing him to start the car and the drive back.

Ice cream ends up being dinner and it might be the best date night he’s ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> This one was bouncing around in my head for a bit, mostly for the mental image. Hope it was enjoyable, and Happy Valentine's Day!


End file.
